Heartache 101 Sour into Sweet
by watermarkrpg
Summary: Machida Hiroto, age 16, has 101 days to get a girlfriend, or he'll have to streak naked through school for a week. He decides to go after the goddess of the school with a totally awesome plan. But things never turn out as planned, do they? A lighthearted coming-of-age story of romance, comedy, and well, apples.
1. Foreword

This is a fanfic of the RPG Maker date sim game "Heartache 101 ~Sour into Sweet~" by Robert Goodwin AKA flowerthief. You can play the original game at rpgmaker dot net.

This story is adapted from the original built-in stories by Robert Goodwin as well as the Junko Watanabe custom module by Nekochi. Special thanks to them for creating the original inspiration for this story! I also want to thank Zakariya for "making" me write this story. Long story short, I never would've written something like this if I hadn't promised him to do it. But I'm glad it happened, because it has been so much fun writing out of my comfort zone. And I learned a lot in the process. Lastly, I want to thank the RMN site for hosting the event that got this all started in the first place.

Please note, this story deviates from the source somewhat. While some of the original events are used, some events are altered, and some new events are added, as otherwise it would just be a cut and paste job (And you can just play the game to see the original stories). Instead, this fanfic tries to incorporate the characters, locations, and other details of the game as best as possible in a new story. Think of it as an alternate what if story that covers about a month of game time.

Warning 1: This is a Young Adult sweet romance story that contains some cussing and mild sexual references and innuendos, although I assure you nothing explicit actually happens. You have been warned in case you find this offensive.

Warning 2: I'm an amateur writer. So don't take this too seriously. It's a light read that may give you mild amusement under certain circumstances, such as, for example, when you're wasted.


	2. Girl or Streak

"In 101 days you'll have to streak butt nekkid for a week!" says Miki.

"I'm feeling magnanimous. I'll let you wear a swim suit," I reply.

"There's no way I'm gonna lose, Hiroto!" says Miki. "I only said 101 days to make it easier for you. I'll have boys all over me in a month!"

Here I am, Machida Hiroto, age 16, facing down two girls in the school courtyard between the girl's wing and the boy's wing. The place is oddly appropriate. It's like neutral ground in a war between boys and girls.

The girl who's been doing most of the talking is Miki. She's got almond eyes, a button nose, and a face like a frying pan. She usually has her hand in this weird karate chop position as if she's gonna hit someone (usually me). She's been my next door neighbor for ages. I've known her so long I've begun seeing her as a sister. Well, more like a step sister that you're not sure you really want, but you don't have a choice in the matter anyway.

I admit she's not a bad sort most of the time. Sometimes she can even be downright nice. It's just she makes it so EVERYTHING between us has to be a bloody competition: Who has better grades. Who runs faster. Who can solve a jigsaw puzzle quicker. And today she issued the biggest competition of them all.

"Just in case you missed it the first time, let's go over the rules again," says Miki. "101 days from today, if I have a boyfriend and you still don't have a girlfriend, I win. But if you have a girlfriend, and I still don't have a boyfriend, you win."

"The loser will have to streak from the science room to the auditorium for a week, yada yada yada. Yes, I heard you the first time," I say.

"Remember, Machida-kun, we're using Keika's addendum to the rules," says the girl next to Miki. "Mannequins, pillows, and blow-up dolls don't count."

She's Ikeda Keika, of the famed Ikeda Zaibatsu, the company that owns just about everything under the sun. Keika's the arch-typical ojou-sama. The modern day princess. She's got a heart shaped face with long, perfectly cascading curls that look like they've been done in one of those outrageously expensive beauty salons in Ginza. She's pretty in a princess like way. By that I mean, objectively, she's not that hot. But since she's a sort of modern day princess, you can't help but give her a second look.

Today, like everyday, her school uniform is meticulously neat. I like her better in casual though, when she dresses like a model straight out of a fashion magazine. A strong wind blows her hair astray, and she immediately smooths it with a grace I wouldn't normally notice, except Miki is doing the exact same thing but like a monkey. How those two ended up bff's I will never know. In fact, I have no idea why Keika even goes to our school. Shouldn't she be in one of those pretentious prep academies for the elite?

"Are you checking out Keika again?" says Miki. "She's already got a boyfriend you know."

"New rule: Mannequins, pillows, blow-up dolls, and Keika don't count," Keika crosses her arms in an X in front of her chest.

"What are you guys talking about?" I say. "I'm not checking her out!"

They both narrow their eyes. Girls! Why are they so sensitive?

"Whatever. Lunch break is almost over. I gotta go to class. See ya," I pick up my bag and walk away.

"Remember," Miki shouts after me. "The competition starts today!"

"Got it!" I give her a wave and head to class.

For the rest of the day, I think about girls. Like any other male teenager, of course I've thought about girls (or guys, depending on one's preference). But I've never SERIOUSLY thought about girls with my (social) life on the line.

The saying goes that if you've never owned a car before, and one day you buy a, say, Toyota, then you will see Toyota's everywhere as if Toyota's have suddenly materialized and dominated the streets. Of course, these Toyota's have always been there. It's just the mind ignores them because they aren't important.

Same with girls. For the first time, I notice how many girls we have at our school. Tall ones, short ones. Thin ones, fat ones. Loud ones, quiet ones. All equally mysterious to me. I have not the slightest clue where to start. Maybe I should toss a paper ball behind my back and go after the girl it hits? It IS an idea…

I walk up to the second floor corridor that overlooks the tennis courts. The sun shines cheerfully down upon the courts, and the girls' tennis team is out practicing in their white uniforms and short skirts. I glance down at them.

And see heaven.

Everything clicks now. It's so obvious I can't believe I didn't think of her when Miki issued the challenge. I can't wai-

An astounding force smashes into me, catching me mid-stride and mid-thought, sending me sprawling to the ground. The world spins for a moment. Shaking off whirling stars, I raise my fist to pummel the crap out of my attacker. I stop in surprise, as I don't see the huge brute I expected. Sitting on the ground rubbing her arm is a girl of slender hips and bust, wearing a blue t-shirt and gym bloomers that cut off just below her butt, showing white, supple legs ending with black sneakers. She's got a petite face with large eyes. We're both sitting in a circle of Boss coffee cans and bottles of Pocari Sweat energy drinks, some still rolling across the floor.

"Great! Just great! I dropped all the drinks! I really don't have time for this!" She looks furiously at me. "Why did you get in the way?"

"Excuse me." I start to get angry. "YOU ran into ME."

"You were in my way!"

"You should've looked at where you're going!"

"Today is just not my day." She covers one eye with her hand in exasperation.

"Look." I shake off the dizziness. "Whatever. Let me help you pick up the drinks."

"I don't need your help," she says. "I don't need anyone's help! Leave me alone!"

"Fine, do what you want!" I was trying to be nice! Well screw that!

She quickly gathers up the fallen drinks and stuffs them into her bag. She runs off without a backward glance.

"You have no manners!" I yell after her.

"You're a jerk!" she yells back before she disappears.

I've never met such an ill-mannered girl in my life! What is her problem?

Miki walks by just as the girl storms off.

"Are you okay, Hiroto?" says Miki as she pulls me up. "What was that all about?"

"That's what I want to know," I say angrily. "Who was that?"

Miki scratches her head. "I think that's Junko. Watanabe Junko."

Her eyes look up and to the left. "She's a track star. The first year who broke all records last year. I talked to her once or twice when we had class together. I remember she's quite cheerful. And pretty nice."

"Cheerful? Nice?" I scowl in the direction that girl ran off to. "Are you sure we're talking about the same person?"

"Why?" Miki raises her eyebrows. "What did she do to you?"

"Nothing," I growl. I don't want to admit that a girl just sent me flying, even by accident. Yes, me and my foolish manly pride. Enough time wasting. I need to start thinking about how to conquer heaven. It's not going to be easy.


	3. Apples

"What did you get for question #8?" asks Takuya.

"That was the one where you calculate the distance on the map?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"2,750 kms."

"Good. Good."

I sit back in my chair as we finish checking the last problem. "Hey man. I've always wondered. Why do you still need to check answers with me? You've got much better grades."

"I call it the Idiot Test. I gotta make sure my answers don't match yours," he says.

"You!" I raise my fist in mock anger.

"Hey, I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" laughs Takuya.

Takuya, my best bud. Average height and build. Easy going guy. Academically, Takuya ranks pretty high, and I'm nowhere near him. Despite that, we still double check our homework answers daily, a habit that began since high school started. In all honesty, if anyone gets the better of the exchange it's definitely me, but Takuya always makes it sound like I'm helping him. No wonder everyone likes him. Must be something he learned in student council. He's the secretary I think.

"Dude. I'm going after a girl," I begin.

"Hiroto finally discovers that we have women here! Hurray! All cheer!" he announces. "Any particular reason why now?"

I briefly tell him about the 101 days competition with Miki.

"So you have to get a girlfriend in 101 days or you'll have to streak?" asks Takuya.

"Yeah, so that's why I'm going after a girl," I say. "And I want a girlfriend too."

"I know! It's that girl, right?"

"Which girl?" I quirk my eyebrow.

"You know, the one with the almond eyes, button nose, and cute dimples."

"You mean Miki?" Cute dimples? What!

"Yeah, Nakajima Miki. Aren't you guys seeing each other?"

"Heavens no!"

"Thought that 'cause you two seem so fond of each other, that's all."

"Fond of each other? You're seriously mistaken, my friend. She's just my next door neighbor who likes to pester me."

"Whatever you say. So, if not her, then who?"

I take a deep breath, "Kaneshiro Shihoko."

His face has 'You've got to be kidding me.' written all over it. "The GODDESS? You're going after THE Goddess herself? That puts you in competition with oh, I don't know, like half the male population in this school? That's not even counting her inter-school fan club."

"Yeah, I know."

Kaneshiro Shihoko, the undisputed celestial being of our school. The very definition of beauty. How beautiful is she? Let's just say you can slap her into one of those AKB48 posters at Akihabara, and she would fit right in with the other teenage pop idols. Actually, she might outshine a good number of them.

She's in the third year, which means she's my senior. She's also the school's star tennis player. EVERYONE in our school knows about the tennis team. Probably because they win championships year after year. Plus their entire team looks hot, with Shihoko being the hottest of them all.

"She's like Constantinople, nigh impregnable," declares Takuya.

"Cons-what? You know I have no idea what that is! Stop showing off you ace student!"

"You really should pay more attention in class, Hiroto. Fine. She's like a citadel. A shogun's castle. The Last Boss. Okay?"

"That's why I'm gonna do something BIG!" I open my arms for emphasis.

"Like what? Sing your love for her over the intercom?"

"I actually thought of that. Like maybe sing her a song with lots of I love you's in it."

"Knowing your voice, there'll be a lynch mob outside the broadcast room before you're halfway through."

"I got a better plan."

"Shoot."

I cup my hand and whisper conspiratorially, "Get this. I'm gonna get her a thousand and one…apples!"

He looks at me blankly for a moment.

"Apples?" he asks.

"Apples." I confirm.

"Just curious, Hiroto, why apples?"

"Because apples have to do with Snow White. I want to say she's like Snow White to me."

"Huh."

"Besides, who doesn't like apples?"

"I'm not doubting anyone's love of apples. I'm just saying, usually when you give a girl lotsa something's, it's usually roses."

"First of all, I can't afford 1001 roses."

"And you can afford 1001 apples?"

"My teammate Kentaro. His family owns an apple farm. I talked to him earlier and made a deal: if I work at their farm he'll give me 1001 apples in exchange. I've worked it out. I just need to work there every other day for about 3 weeks. It's a great deal!" I say.

"You gonna quit your Sunday janitor job?" asks Takuya.

"No! I'll need that to make money so I'll have enough to go on dates with Shihoko. I'll work two jobs for a time."

"Suppose you manage to get this mountain of apples - I AM assuming you're not just gonna dump it on her - What do you plan to do with it?"

I gesture excitedly. "That's what I need you to help me with. I can't do this alone. You know the school entrance? I was thinking of arranging the apples in a big heart in front of it. And maybe spell 'I love you' or 'Love Shihoko' at the heart's center!"

"It won't last past first period," says Takuya. "The teachers will make us clear it when they come in."

"It doesn't have to," I say. "I just need Shihoko to see it when she comes to school."

"Buddy, not to rain on your parade, but you do know there's a chance this could be an epic fail, quite possibly making you the laughingstock of the entire school?"

"Like you said, I AM going after the Goddess herself." I thump a fist to my heart. "It's do or die."

"I call it," I say with all earnestness, "Project Snow White."

Takuya looks at me for a moment and then bursts out laughing.

"What?" I exclaim.

He laughs so hard he has to sit down to hold his stomach. He starts to say something and then whoops some more. A minute passes before he pauses to catch his breath.

"Oh man, oh man. That has got to be the wackiest, ballsiest plan I've heard all year." He stifles his chuckles. "I like it."

"You'll help me?" I grin.

He gives me a thumbs up. "A thousand and one apples it is. I'm all behind ya, bud."


	4. Judo

The school bell finally tolls, and our day of mental indentured servitude finally ends. I put my indoor shoes into my foot locker, change into my outdoor shoes, and head out of the school gates. I belong to the 'stay-at-home' club now so I march down the street fully intending to head home, but somehow my feet take me back to school, back to the gym. I suppose old habits die hard. I've walked here so often I guess my feet simply don't know how to act otherwise.

The school gym. My second home. If there's one thing I love about this school, it's this. I know it so well I can walk through it blindfolded. Thanks to the popularity of the tennis team, our gym gets generous funding from district. As a result of that, we even have our own training room.

WE, as in the judo team.

I joined judo as soon as I entered high school. We have only a few members, barely qualifying as an official team. Unlike the more popular tennis or track teams, we never win any awards. I think I was actually the most hopeful judoka we had in years. Yet literally nobody in school knows I do judo. It's not that I keep it a secret. Simply, most of the school don't even know we HAVE a judo team. We used to joke around that we're the second least known sport in our school, after the bobsled team (and no, we don't have a bobsled team).

Keika and Miki know about the judo, but since neither of them care about sports very much, they would only ask out of politeness from time to time, "Hows that, uh, judo thing that you're doing?" As all true athletes know, we decline to speak seriously about our labor to muggles. It's sufficient to respond with the canned 'Same old, same old.' routine and let it rest at that. The one time I tried to enlighten them on the beauty of judo, their eyes had glazed over after only five minutes. That taught me never to do that ever again.

Being at the butt end of the popularity scale, it goes without saying that we also receive the least funding from school. Our area can't begin to compare to the shining, high tech stadiums of the other teams. Besides the mats, we have a motley collection of secondhand free weights from somebody's brothers and/or uncles. Next to them sits a wheezing treadmill we got at a bargain from a gym that was going out of business. In the corner lies a multi-patched monster truck tire we dragged back from the dump last summer. An absolute disaster of a room. We're terribly proud of it.

And now I no longer need to be here.

Before, life had been an endless cycle of school, training, home, and school again. I had no time for much else. Then I missed Nationals, and judo, for all intents and purposes, ended for me. Next year I will start my third and final year at high school, a year solely dedicated to preparation for college entrance exams. In other words, I won't have time to seriously train anymore. Like a ship adrift at sea, I no longer have a clear destination. Perhaps that's why I agreed so readily to Miki's 101 day challenge. I crave something to do. Any destination to set sail to.

"Machida-kun!" A voice shakes me out of my reminiscing. I turn to see Keika walking towards me.

"Oh hi, Keika." I wave. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm waiting for my boyfriend," she chirps. "Why are you here?"

Before I can answer she says, "Oh, I know! You came to watch my boyfriend's moves!"

"He's really good at basketball," Keika gushes. "He's the team's MVP! Even his team captain admits they can't do without Shoichi!"

Yes, I know because she talks about this only every other day. From the way Keika tells it, her boy wonder should probably fly to the US and join the NBA right now. I try not to roll my eyes.

"Where is your boyfriend anyway?" I ask.

"He's probably just late."

"HE's late?" I look at her in utter disbelief.

Someone else is later than Keika. I've never, ever expected to hear THAT in my lifetime. Keika is the Queen of Late. When we had our gatherings in the past, Miki and I would usually just begin doing whatever we were supposed to be doing, and Keika will join in halfway. Keika's late show has been going on ever since I've known her. Maybe in cultures where people don't care about lateness, Keika's behavior wouldn't be that big of a deal. But we're in Japan, where the definition of on time is 15 minutes early. I seriously wonder how Keika survived this long without being shunned completely.

I guess Miki and I just got used to her. Miki, being totally laid back and brainless (one of her good qualities in this case), just waves off Keika's lateness with "Oh, she means no offense. She's just scatterbrained." And that it must be a 'rich people' thing. Since both of them see Keika's lateness as the most normal thing in the world, I too came to view it as a natural phenomenon. I should probably call it the Keika Zone. Beware all! Know that when in the Keika Zone, time has no meaning!

"Aren't you supposed to be the one who is always late?" I ask.

"I am," she replies.

"How does that work?" Now I'm confused.

"After Shoichi got used to me always being late for our dates, he started showing up late himself. Then I figured it was all right for me to show up a little later than I used to. That caused him to adjust again so that he shows up even later than me."

"So now it's a toss-up which one of you is gonna be later than the other for any given date?"

"Yes, basically."

"When were you supposed to meet?"

"About an hour ago."

"What? You're sure he's just late?"

"Yes. It's my fault though. I should have come even later than this," she smiles apologetically.

I stand speechless at the absurdity of this. At how such a thing can even be happening. At her meeting a boy who respects time even less than she does.

I finally say, "That can't be healthy."

"What do you mean?" She frowns.

"It…it can't be healthy for your relationship. I mean, if the two of you aren't even punctual towards one another."

"But it shouldn't matter as long as we care about each other," she says dreamily.

"But it does!" I shout.

She's shocked at my sudden outburst. So am I.

An unexpected anger flares, overtaking my person. At her. At her stupid boyfriend. At this stupidness. Perhaps all that pent up resentment over her lateness over the years decided right then that they had to have their say today. I am suddenly sick of catering to her because she's a spoiled ojou-sama. Why can't she be punctual like everyone else? Why does she have no respect for other people's time?

I say, more harshly than I intended, "Put it this way. When you care about someone, do you think that person is important to you?"

"Of course." She nods slowly.

"Being punctual says to the other person, 'Your time is more important than mine.' In other words, there's no better way to say 'You're important to me.' than being punctual!" I finish, with my hands in the air, as if that made what I said more important.

"No one ever told me that," she whispers.

I have no idea why I went off like that. Who am I to tell her what to do? It's not like I'm her boyfriend. The adrenaline wears off and a flush begins its creep up my face. Before I make a total fool of myself, I say, "Uh. What I mean is, it's better to be punctual. Yeah. Look, I gotta go."

Then I wave a hasty goodbye and flee.


	5. Heartbeat

The teacher drones on about the intricacies of integrals (or is it derivatives? Can't ever seem to remember). I try to focus but the info seems to leak out of my ears as soon as they enter it. I'm so not looking forward to college entrance exams next year. Why can't they have exams based on how well you can throw people around? At least that's more useful than this arcane stuff. Finally the class bell rings and I slump in exhaustion as the teacher reminds us a third time to do our homework. What's next? Chemistry? Oh boy. Another favorite.

Students fill the hallways as usual during break. I walk slowly to chem since I've still got plenty of time. I pass a group of blushing girls giggling and sneaking glances at something. I follow their gaze. Oh, I see. It's Masashi, the school chick magnet.

Masashi whatshislastname is the track team captain. While the track team isn't as crazy popular as the tennis team, they're still rock stars compared to the judo team. Masashi's well muscled and according to the girls in our school, very handsome. His name consistently shows up in the top 10 when grades are posted. Girls line up to date him. He's got the looks, the brawn, the brains, and the popularity. The perfect golden boy. I don't like him.

It may have to do with the relationship between our teams. I don't remember exactly what began the rivalry, no, the blood feud between the judo team and the track team. Maybe it started with a few snide remarks about how all judo members are short and slow. Or maybe it's because someone from our side called them peewee twigs. Then one time they stole our judo gi's from the laundry. We retaliated by soaking their running shoes and turning them into ice blocks in the freezer. After that war erupted and no one has yet called a cease fire.

Plus, it is public knowledge he recently broke up with his girlfriend (or girlfriends) and has set his sights on Shihoko. Quite a number of people in our school root for him and Shihoko. That the school's 'perfect couple' should so get together. So in my book, he's public enemy No. 1.

"Hey dumbass!" he calls out to me. The goons around him laugh. Masashi's nice to girls. Girls ONLY.

"Throwing random insults." I stop and match his glare. "Yeah. That makes you a big man now."

"I'm just telling it like it is. Okay then genius, since you deny my truthful observation, answer me this: Aristotle. Plato. Socrates. Who taught who?"

I remember hearing those names in class. Just not in what order.

"I'm Japanese! I don't care about some stupid western history!" I reply lamely.

"Says the patriot!" Masashi exaggeratedly presents me to his buddies. "Well, Mr. I-Love-Japan. Do you know we live in a connected world now? Cultural Integration? Global Village? Oh, I'm sorry. Did I use terms that are too big for you?"

I stand there red-faced. I ball my hands into fists. Someone swipes my wallet from my back pocket.

"Hey!" I whirl around and see one of Masashi's goons. He must've snuck up on me while I was talking to Masashi. He throws my wallet to Masashi. The pack whoops.

Masashi shakes my wallet in my face. "I wonder what's inside. Maybe I'll find some maid cafe coupons? Some otaku memorabilia?"

"Give me back my wallet!"

"Sure," he says and then hurls my wallet through an open window. "Oops. My hand slipped. You better go find it before someone picks it up. Ha ha ha!" They high five each other and skip away like a pack of hyenas.

Without thinking I rush inside the neighboring room. I see my wallet and scoop it off the floor. I check the contents and nothing seems missing. Now I am gonna go back and punch-

Oh no. I suddenly realize where I am. I'm in the GIRLS' locker room.

Holy crap. Here of all places! Good thing I don't see anyone. I have to get out of here before-

I hear the door open. Someone's coming! I'm in the inner section so I'll have a few seconds, but no more. Great. Just great. If they find me now no one will believe my story. I'll be branded the Supreme Pervert of our high school forever and ever, and all chances of wooing Shihoko will be flushed down the drain.

I must hide! Activating my "Janitor's Mode", a torrent of bathroom and locker room layouts flash through my mind. I look to the left. There! Just as I thought, a broom closet! I yank the door open and swivel in just in time. A few seconds later, I hear footsteps and heavy breathing outside the closet door. Someone just ran in? Is someone else on the run today too?

I freeze. Any minute now someone is going to open that door and end my (social) life. I clench my fist. Cold sweat drips down my back. With a shock, I realize I forgot to lock the door. I reach for the door knob and-

A brilliant flash of light blinds my eyes. A sweaty, breathless girl appears in front of me still holding the door, her body on the way in.

I can't believe it. It's Watanabe Junko: human wrecking ball.

Her eyes widen at the sight of me, and I stare back jaw agape. For a second, we stand there like two idiots caught in headlights.

Acting on wild instinct, I grab her, clap my hand over her mouth, and pull her in with me, slamming and locking the door behind us. Good thing I do that because a moment later we hear the voices of two other girls.

"Listen!" I hiss in Junko's ear. "I'm not a pervert! I'll explain later. Just shut up!" Apparently she doesn't want to be found out either, because she stops struggling.

"Where's that little bitch?" yells a girl's voice. "Wait till I get my hands on her!"

Crash! Boom! Crack! It sounds like two dinosaurs stomping around outside the broom closet, ready to rip us apart and devour us whole. In high school one's reputation IS life, so that comparison's really not that far from the truth. If they discover us like this now, it's OVER.

The girls outside seem to be flinging open lockers and throwing stuff around, generally taking the place down. Hey, maybe I can use this as my excuse for being late to chem. So why were you late for class? Uh, I was dodging dinosaurs?

The closet door handle rattles.

This is it. That lock will break off any moment and the door flung open. The end approaches. I hold my breath, and I feel Junko tense as she does so too.

"This door's locked. She can't be in here," says one of the voices.

Thank heavens they forget one can lock a door from the inside too. Maybe some god of hiding has decided to be on my side today. Or maybe they're just really dumb. Either way I'm not complaining. After a while the sounds cease, and I hear two soft thumps on benches I'm guessing. They begin chatting.

"You sure you saw her run in here?"

"I guess I must've seen wrong. She must've took another turn."

"What do we do now?"

"She'll have to come to practice sooner or later."

"Yeah, but you can't do anything with Coach around."

"Coach can't be everywhere. I will make sure that girl never competes again!"

"I heard she's in a gang."

"I don't care if she's in a hundred gangs. No one crosses me like that!"

"To be fair, she hasn't always been like this."

"Oh yeah? What happened?"

"I heard her dad got together with a sexy little filly and dumped her mom."

"Really? That's wild."

The girls laugh.

A fury of twists, elbows, and kicks explode within my embrace. Junko is trying to break out, presumably to beat the living snot out of those two girls. There's no way I'm letting that happening. I hang on to her for dear life because wow, she is STRONG. If it had been anyone but me (okay, or maybe one of my teammates), she would've gotten out for sure. Eventually she gives up. Hot tears of shame and anger flow down her cheeks and onto my hand, accompanied by a short sob of frustration. I feel like a dirty thug. It's not one of my proudest moments.

The dinosaurs outside cuss some more, kick some more, and throw their weight around in vexation. The seconds tick by with agonizing slowness. Every second a certainty the door would be thrown open, my doom ensured.

But as in all things, eternity passes and sweet silence arrives. I breath a sign of relief.

And become painfully aware that I, Machida Hiroto, age 16, have never, ever held a girl before. I always imagined I would have my first embrace under more romantic circumstances. Maybe after a fun night of dinner and movie, as I walk my date back to her house, we duck into a secluded, forgotten garden, secreted in the bustle of the city. Then under silvery moonlight, surrounded by sakura trees. There. Certainly not in a dank broom closet hiding from two rampaging monsters.

But here we are. And I'm totally unprepared for this soft bundle of warmth and softness. A not unpleasant weight presses against my chest. My left hand covers a face smooth and delicate, my right encircles a narrow waist, and my face snuggles in hair smelling faintly of flowers. It's intensifying, electrifying, and terrifying all at the same time. I can feel her heartbeat. My own beats out of control.

"They're gone. Can you let go now?" she says coldly.

"Oh. Ah. Yeah."

I let go, and we stumble out of the broom closet: two disheveled, breathless, sweaty teenagers. If some teacher had walked by then, we would've had to come up with some really, really good explanation.

I look at her and begin apologetically, "Look, I'm so-"

She slaps my face, hard. She turns and runs off.

Leaving me stunned, holding my face, and pissed off. What have I done to deserve this? I hate that girl!


	6. End of the World

I go to school the next day, fully expecting the End of the World (as Hiroto Knows It), but surprisingly nothing happens. Not a peep from anyone. Very anti-climatic.

It turns out Junko didn't tell anyone about our little disaster in the girls' locker room. Huh. I guess she must've found it too embarrassing to speak of being stuck in a closet with me. That's good news.


	7. Bakayaro Gundan

It's Sunday, and I head to the bathroom. Not any bathroom, but the public bathroom where I work as a janitor part time. The job pays pretty well. I guess it's because many people find cleaning bathrooms distasteful. I don't. I have no problems working with poopoo and peepee. It's all just dirt in the end and doesn't bother me. In fact, I get an odd satisfaction from making everything spic and span.

Plus the Rumble in the Bathroom event keeps everything lively every week.

There's this gang of four hoodlums that for some inexplicable reason have decided to make this particular bathroom their headquarters. Before I came along I guess they had their happy days smoking cigarettes or farting or whatever it was they found enjoyable doing here.

I changed all that. This is because my boss, a soft spoken middle aged man with spectacles, bases my salary directly on the bathroom's shininess when he comes to inspect it at the end of the day. My boss may not look so tough, but he's tough as nails when it comes to counting salary. Not an extra yen paid if he sees a mess here. Since MY MONEY is on the line, pigs will fly before I let a bunch of hoodlums mess up my handiwork. I harbor no illusions as to what will happen if I let them through: the hoodlums always carry spray paint cans with them when they show up. Come to think of it, that's probably the other reason my boss is paying me so well. Maybe I'm his tough.

Speaking of the devils. Here they come now.

I never learned their real names. So for convenience's sake I call the one with the punch perm Ba-kun. The one with the lisp I call Ka-kun. The one with the slanted eyes and crooked teeth I call Ya-kun. And the guy who always ends his sentences with the biker slang 'Yoroshiku!' I call Ro-chan. Cause I once had a dog called Ro(ku)-chan. Besides, this way if I wanted to call them all at once I can just yell BAKAYARO! Quite convenient.

For their part the Bakayaro Gang just refer to me as Toileto-kun. I don't mind. I doubt their combined brain cells can process anything harder.

"We're gonna get you today, Toileto-kun!" screeches Ba-kun. He motions to the others, and they rush me.

I sigh, "Here we go again."

Ya-kun arrives ahead of the others so I grab him first and start to put him into a hold. Strange. It seems a little TOO easy today. He smirks.

"Gotcha." He grabs me in return and yells, "Get 'im, guys!"

On his signal, the other three hoodlums ready their punches. Wow. A trap. They really thought it through this time. They've put me in a tight spot. I'll give them that.

Time to get this over with. I start with Ya-kun, who is attempting some ineffective hold he learned online probably. I don't really know what else to do, so I throw him across the room. Then I grab Ka-kun's collar and hurl him into Ro-chan, and they both go tumbling into a pile of toilet paper. I spin around with an aerial scissors kick that catches Ba-kun right at the chest and brings him crashing down to the ground. Then I twist around and put him in an armlock.

While he is struggling to get out of my death grip, a few cheap-looking blue plastic gems fall out of his pocket. They look like gems for some doll house play set. What's a bunch of hoodlums doing with playhouse stuff?

I grab them with a free hand. "What are these?"

"Like I'm gonna tell..ow..OW..OWWW! Easy! Easy!"

"I'm gonna do a lot worse if you don't fess up."

"Energy gems! They're energy gems! They prevent you from getting sick or shift the stars in your favor. Enriching your love life!"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Uh huh. So do I need to do a little dance and chant 'Puni puni magiku star powa!' when I use them?"

"What? I don't know. I don't thin- OW! OW! OWWW! OK! OK! You can trade them in for a better phone plan!"

"Finally you say something sensible. Go on."

"They're tokens issued by StarBank Telecom. A new promotion gimmick. You collect five of them and they give you a huge discount on your phone plan!"

"See? That wasn't so hard now was it?"

I lift him up and throw him into the other three who are in the middle of getting up, sending them all into a jumble again.

I flash the cheap gems at them. "My phone plan sucks so I'll be keeping these. Consider them payment for 'teaching' you judo every week!"

"You haven't seen the last of us! We'll be back!" they call out as they scamper away. They always say that. I watch them go as I don't hate them really. It's hard to hate total idiots.

Yup, my janitorial job is so much more fun with the Bakayaro Gang. I better get to real cleaning now.


	8. Aoi

"And he's cheap!" Miki narrates enthusiastically. "I told him it's just ice cream. It's not like I'm asking him to buy me a diamond or something. He said if I wanted it I can buy it myself! Can you believe it?"

"Um." I raise my hand.

"What?" says Miki.

"I thought you said you wanted to gloat about your date?"

"Isn't that what I'm doing?"

"I imagined you would tell it more, uh, romantically?"

"Well romantic it wasn't! And he even tried to feel me up! Good thing I slapped his hand away before it got within a meter of me."

"I'm guessing you two didn't part on the best of terms?"

"Hmpt," says Miki. "He did say something strange at the end though. He said thank goodness he's being paid for this. I wonder what he meant."

Somebody paid for Miki's date? Who in the world has the spare money or the motivation to do such a silly thing? Keika suddenly find the clouds outside our window very interesting. I have an idea why.

"It's just so weird," says Miki. "Right Keika?"

Keika jumps. "Oh! Of course! I had nothing to do with it! I mean, why would I?"

"Yeah." I look at Keika. "Why would you? Hmm?"

"At least Miki had a date!" Keika shoots back. "What about you? Gone on any dates lately?"

"I've gone on one already," says Miki smugly. "I told you I'd get a date first!"

"Sounds like you had a blast, too," I reply.

"It can only get better," declares Miki. "I'll have a boyfriend before you know it. Come on! I shared my progress. How about you?"

"I'm working on it." I shrug and get up from my seat. I'm not about to reveal Project Snow White yet. I want it to surprise them too. "You two have fun chatting about dates."

I look meaningfully at Keika. "And maybe think about how to setup the next one." She returns an innocent smile.

Nothing much happens for the rest of the day. I run into Miki a few times, but that happens everyday anyway. I also see some girl with glasses and a notebook speaking to a shady man in a car, but it's really none of my business. I put the books I'll need into my bag, sling my bag behind me, and get ready to head out. Maybe I can workout a little today. Lifting weights always manages to relax me. Odd. I see a kid standing by the entrance gates. It's a little girl of about 8 or 9 with a lopsided ponytail. She turns her head this way and that as if looking for someone. What's an elementary school student doing at our high school? Trying to be helpful, I walk up to her and say, "Yo, kid. Need help?"

She stares at me.

I try again. "This is a high school. You're probably in the wrong place. Are you lost?"

"I am waiting for my sister. She goes to this school," she replies.

"You sure?"

"This is Hayauchi High, right?" She points to the school plaque.

"It is," I concede.

"Then I'm sure."

"Alright then. Have fun. Bye."

I walk away. I mean, what could possibly happen to her? I am sure millions of kids wait in front of schools every day and nothing ever happens to them. Well, actually, things do happen to some of them come to think of it.

I can imagine the headline now: Elementary School Student Found Murdered Near High School.

The Police will show up at my doorstep, shine a flashlight in my face, and say, "It has been confirmed by several eye witnesses that you were the last person seen talking to the victim. We need you to come with us."

"I didn't do it!"

"Then why did you let a little girl walk away alone?"

"Uh, because I'm an asshole?"

I really don't want to have that conversation. I walk back to the kid, crouch down, and put on my stern face. "Yo, kid. You need to go home. It's not safe here. You should wait for your sister at home."

"My sister says I shouldn't talk to strangers."

"Your sister is right, but I am not a bad guy. You should do as I say."

"Oh yeah? What's your name?"

"My name is Hiroto. Machida Hiroto."

"Oh! Hiroto? That's good then. My sister knows you!"

"Like I said…what? Really? Your sister knows me?"

"Yes! She said you're that dumb-looking jock she runs by every morning."

"Is that so." Dumb-looking jock? Dumb looking? Hey!

"She said she didn't really notice you before till she ran into you the other day."

I go over the number of girls who've ran into me this past year. Then I run a database check on girls who've ran into me in my lifetime. I can think of only one.

"Your sister wouldn't happen to be Watanabe Junko, would it?" I ask.

Her expression brightens. "Yes! You ARE Hiroto! That solves my problem. I am Aoi. Junko's my sister. You're not a stranger!"

I'm not a stranger, but I think your sister forgot to tell you she hates my guts.

"So what do we do now, oni-chan?" she pipes.

"Oni-chan? You need to call me Machida-san," I scold.

"You don't look that old. I only call adults -san. And you don't look like a -san. Besides, you FEEL like a big brother, an oni-chan."

"You got a smart mouth, kid."

"Do you have a swing set in your school, oni-chan?"

"No, our high school does not have a swing set."

"No? That's terrible! Every school should have a swing set. They should make it a rule."

After that she sticks to me like super glue. I can't get rid of her if I tried. There goes my workout plan!

Eons later (probably two hours), we finally see Junko walk out the school entrance.

"Big sis! One-chan!" Aoi screams, runs, and jumps her sister.

"Aoi! What are you doing here? This is not safe! Don't ever do this again! Do you understand?" Junko begins to fuss over Aoi like a mom.

Aoi points in my direction. "Don't worry. I was playing with oni-chan all this time!"

Junko looks my way in surprise. "You…"

By the shape of her mouth I am 100% sure she was about to say 'Pervert' but stopped herself, probably because her kid sister is here. Instead she chokes out, "…Machida…kun."

"Yo." I give a half wave.

"You waited with my sister?" she asks.

"Uh, Yeah. I saw your sister, and we just kinda hit it off, I guess," I reply.

Aoi chirps, "One-chan! One-chan! Like you said, oni-chan does look a bit dumb, but he's not dumb at all! He knows all these fun games!"

Junko flushes bright red.

She stammers, "Don't, don't be silly Aoi! I never said that! So, uh, Machida-kun, you're, um…"

I guess she's trying to change the subject.

"You're on the judo team, right?"

"Whoa. You knew that?"

"Why? Is it supposed to be a big secret?"

"No. It's just like nobody in the school knows about the judo team. I'm a bit surprised, that's all."

"I remember seeing you when you guys were jogging around in uniform."

"Oh right. That was when we had the senpai who believed religiously that running helps with judo. So we ran every morning."

"I think that time you were puffing at the end of the line and your senpai was yelling, 'You better move your fat ass, Hiroto! Or I'm gonna kick it all the way back to school!' That was how I knew it was you."

Oh. THAT time.

She says, "Anyway, thanks for hanging out with my sister. I, um, really appreciate it."

Oh, so you're being nice now? Putting on an act cause your sister's here? I am about to respond with something like you better keep your sister chained at home next time when Aoi runs up and gives me a big hug.

"Bye bye, oni-chan! You were awesome! Let's play again sometime!" she says happily.

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

What else can I say?


	9. Internet and Coffee

Saturday comes, and I head to a Internet cafe to chill. I can go online on my phone anytime, but sometimes I find it fun to surf the net with other people while sipping coffee. I suppose it's like going to a library when I can just read at home.

A nice Internet cafe recently opened near my house. They've got these big curved monitors used by pro gamers, who show up to train from time to time. The owner always keeps the place sparkly clean, and sunlight filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows bordering the street, making the place cheery and bright. But the kicker for me is their totally awesome coffee. It always confounds me how so many 'real' cafes have terrible and expensive coffee. The owner here must know his coffee. He's this friendly dude in his thirties with a neatly trimmed goatee. Female patrons often chat gaily with him at the counter. Maybe I should ask him for advice on girls sometime, but today I just want to chill.

I settle down with my coffee by a corner seat and start clicking through random sites. Some boring international news about some new president with bad hair. The latest pop star scandal. A few judo forums. Hmm… what's this? A new pool? Looks interesting. I click open the details. The webpage describes it as Olympic sized with a diving area. It's even heated. The online pictures look really neat and they have a promotion today that lets high school students with a valid ID swim for free. Wait, today? I look at the time. I can still make it if I hurry. I down my coffee, pack up my stuff, and head back home to grab my swimming shorts.


	10. Swimming

It takes me a while to find the pool, and I arrive much later than I wanted to. Still, I think I have time to get in a few strokes before the place closes. I change quickly and head out to the pool area. Surprisingly, the pool looks even better than the online pictures. Natural light spills through the narrow skylights onto crystal clear water. Rows of bleachers line both sides of the pool, with a few wooden pool chairs placed neatly beside the white tiled edges. The best thing is their online promotion event appears to be a total failure, because not too many people showed up at all. A few high school kids lounge lazily on the chairs, an old man floats near the shallow end, and a girl wrapped in a towel sits by the pool's edge idly kicking the water. A bored lifeguard is reading a magazine on his highchair, sparing the occasional mandatory glance at the pool. I had worried this place might be packed today, but I guess I was one of the few people who saw the ad. This is great!

I walk toward the pool to do some warm up and stretching. The girl in the towel looks my way. I do a double take. Keika? She sees me, smiles, and waves me over.

Keika has her hair tied up with a ribbon. She's wrapped in a flowery towel and underneath it she has on a pure white bikini. Of course, she's well dressed today too. I didn't know it was possible to be well dressed in a bikini. It's not like it's revealing. Quite the opposite. If some categorizer has to categorize her bikini, he would put it in one of the modest groups. The top has a kinda off the shoulder design with gossamer sleeves, and the bottom comes with a skirt-like piece. I don't know why it works, but she looks cute as hell.

"Hi Machida-kun! What are you doing here?" she asks.

"What do people do at a pool?" I say.

"Check out the bikinis?"

"That's a fringe benefit."

"So you came to swim, too? I'm waiting for my boyfriend. He promised to teach me how to swim today!" She gestures at the pool.

"Is your boyfriend late again? Or are you early?"

"Either. I've been waiting for like two hours." She seems a little less excited about that.

"Wow, that's a long time."

"It's alright." She looks away. "I'm used to it."

I ask, "That day you were waiting for him at the gym he never showed up, right? I heard it from Miki."

"It's true. He said later that he wasn't able to make it."

"Busy guy?"

"I suppose so. He's a senior this year so he's got entrance exams to study for. I'm sure he's got a lot of studying to do."

She opens her mouth to say something else but changes her mind. We share an awkward moment of silence. Her legs shiver a little.

"Why did you change already? You could've waited till he got here to change, you know." I say.

"I thought this way he wouldn't have to wait for me to change when he gets here. And I think he would be happy to see me in a bikini."

"Aren't you freezing?" I ask.

"No," she lies.

"You should probably get in the water. It's heated. You don't have to swim. You can just, you know, chill out in the pool while you wait for him."

"I'm not going in the water without him."

"You really can't swim, huh?"

"I learned once. But I forgot how."

"How does a person forget how to swim?"

"It's quite easy. Just don't do it for a while," she says.

Yeah. Ok. I'll just file that under 'Only Keika'.

"Um. You don't have to wait with me, Machida-kun. Why don't you go swim?" she says.

I look at the clock. It's nearly 5:30. It looks like her dear boyfriend isn't showing up, again. I start to get a little angry. Why is he treating her like this? And why is she putting up with it?

"Are you sure he's coming?" I ask.

"I think so."

"I don't know if you realize this, but the pool closes in like half an hour."

"It does?"

"That's what the sign says."

"Oh. I figured it would be open all night like a convenience store."

"Uh. No."

She sighs, "Oh well, I guess I won't get to learn how to swim today."

I wonder if I can teach her to swim instead. Nah. My morality forbids it. She is someone else's girlfriend. Let's just call it a day, go change, and go home. In my mind's eye, I see Morality as a burning angel of vengeance, raising his staff and commanding: Thou shall not covet thy brethren's girlfriend! Yes, oh Morality, I shall strive to uphold thy commandment! I am a paragon of honor and virtue!

I am also a normal, healthy, male teenager. And right now a not-that-bad-looking girl stands in front of me in need of assistance. In a bikini. By a pool. Screw it. I can't help myself.

"I can teach you to swim," that pops out of my mouth before I can stop it.

She'll refuse, of course. And we can all go home hap-

"OK."

"Huh?"

"OK. Teach me to swim. I don't think Shoichi is coming after all. We came all this way. It would be a waste if we didn't swim. You look like you can swim well. Am I right?"

"We had a senpai last year who believed religiously that swimming helps with judo. So there was a semester when we swam every morning."

"Then you should have no problems teaching me."

"What if your boyfriend walks in on us? Wouldn't that be awkward? He might even get the wrong ideas."

"If that happens I'll stuff you under the water and stall. You look like you can hold your breath for some time." Girls can be scary when they're determined.

All her composure goes to pieces when she enters the water. She starts to grab me in all sorts of places, like how a wild drowning woman would grab the last piece of driftwood in the stormy sea, all the while screaming in eight different decibels. Good thing I'm pretty fit, or I'm sure I would've been pulled under to my death.

"I'm gonna drown! I'm gonna drown!" she screams.

The lifeguard looks down at us, but I flash him a 'I got this.' signal, so he shrugs and goes back to reading his magazine.

"Hold my hands! Hold my hands. There. There. See? There's nothing to be afraid of."

She calms down a bit as I hold her afloat, her hands tightly gripping mine.

"Relax. Let the water carry you. Kick your feet. Back and forth. Back and forth. Good."

She's still stiff as a board, but as she stops flailing and gradually relaxes, her position stabilizes, and she's able to stay afloat with my help.

"See! You can swim!" I reassure her.

"I guess…I guess I can. Wahhhhh!" she loses her balance again, and I proceed to prevent my own drowning death again in a mad scramble.

How can you lose your balance in the water? I don't know how she does it. It must be a talent. I also don't know how we ended up in this position, but somehow her hands are on my shoulders, and my hands are holding her up by her slender waist.

"I think we still have some work to do," I say.

"You think it's because of my form?"

"I think the problem's all in your head, girl." I look up at her.

She looks down into my eyes. "Well boy, then it's up to you to fix it."

And so, a boy taught a girl how to swim that day.

Let no one say this boy did not enter into this interaction with the purest of hearts and the most noble of intentions. Let it be known he entered it with the expressed purpose of transferring knowledge of how to traverse in the water to another fellow human being. That and nothing more. For that is the Truth.

But also let no one say that he did not welcome the occasional contact of skin, that he derived no pleasure from the necessary holding of hands, the accidental hugs, and the almost unnoticed brush of a young girl's bosom. That he did not feel a thrill due to the simple closeness of a member of the opposite sex. For that would be a lie.


	11. Mr Hoppy

Monday arrives and proves another ho-hum day. Ho-hum till noon anyway.

At noon I walk into the courtyard and into drama. Two girls are trying to comfort a little girl bawling her heart out. What's going on? As I get closer I see Miki and Junko of all people. I walk closer and confirm my suspicions: the little girl is Aoi.

"What happened?" I ask as I join them.

"I don't know either," says Miki. "I found this little girl crying for Junko so I went and got her. We've only just arrived."

"Oni-chan!" Aoi looks at me all teary faced. "You're here too!"

"You know her?" Miki looks surprised.

"Long story," I say. Before Miki gets a chance to ask more silly questions, I crouch down and speak to Aoi. "Hey. What's going on?"

"You see," Aoi sniffles. "It's my turn to take care of the rabbits at school. But when I was feeding them, Mr. Hoppy escaped!"

"MISTER Hoppy?"

"Oh, he was originally called Hoppy, but I thought it sounded too much like a puppy's name. Like Robby or Bobby you know? A name is very important. Especially for a young rabbit. I HAD to change it. Now everyone calls him Mr. Hoppy." She still manages to lecture us about the rabbit's name in between sniffles, with well timed gestures for clarity. She should go into politics when she grows up.

"It doesn't matter now! I can't find Mr. Hoppy anywhere!" she bawls.

"Whoa, slow down. You lost your rabbit? Where?"

"Our school is near the children's playground. I think Mr. Hoppy probably went there."

"Don't worry," says Junko. "I'll help you find Mr. Hoppy. Come on, we'll go tell the teachers what happened and then I can take you back to school. But then you're going to have to stay there and wait for me to be done with school, okay?"

"Don't you have an important track meet today?" says Aoi.

"Don't worry about it," says Junko. "I'll skip it and help you find Mr. Hoppy."

"No!" Aoi stands up with a sudden defiance, surprising Junko. "You can't skip again! You've already skipped so many times because of me. If you keep this up they'll kick you off the team for sure! I can't let you do that."

Junko seems too shocked to reply. Aoi collects herself and goes on, "I ran here because I didn't know what to do. But now I'm better. I can handle this myself."

It would've sounded convincing if two trails of tears didn't flow down her face right then. And if Aoi's lips didn't tremble as she said it.

"I'll not have you out by yourself!" says Junko.

"Then someone else can come with me!" huffs Aoi.

Junko glances at me, but her gaze shifts away quickly. I guess she doesn't want me involved. Not that I would anyway. Who wants to help a rude girl like her?

"Hiroto." Miki just HAS to ask, doesn't she? "Can you help? Cause you know, me and animals…"

I shrug. "I can't. I'm busy."

"What do you have to do that's so important?" exclaims Miki.

"I dunno. Stuff. I have stuff to do. I'm a busy guy."

Miki glares at me. I keep a blank expression. Junko still doesn't look at me. Ha! Serves her right! That'll teach her not to be rude to people. I smirk.

"Oooh! Sometimes you ARE a jerk, Hiroto!" Miki says to Junko. "Ignore this heartless buffoon, Junko! I'll help you. Don't worry and go to your track meet. I'll take care of Aoi."

Somehow through all this Aoi says not a word, but simply looks at me with determination. I don't know what that girl's hoping, but whatever it is I'm not in it. I leave them to work out the problem on their own.


	12. Stats

I stroll down the streets, thinking of how I should spend my time after school. Ever since Miki started the contest I've been thinking about self improvement. I have full confidence my thousand apple plan will impress Shihoko, but what happens after that? Shihoko is divinity incarnate. Her boyfriend can't seem like a loser. It'll be an insult to her! I must strive to become a man to worthy of Shihoko.

I go over qualities that I think girls will care about. Muscles? That I have. Brains? Maybe I can work on that. Artistic ability? Okay, maybe that too. I find it easier to see all these traits as stats, like in some video game. All I have to do is spend my time on activities that up these stats. Like leveling up in a game. Simple.

Therefore it annoys me when insignificant things pop up and suck up my precious time. Things like chasing after silly rabbits. Shihoko is important. My stats are important. I can't waste time on trifles. In fact, I don't even know Junko and Aoi that well. Total strangers for all I care. And Miki already said she's gonna help, right?

Still, I know what Miki meant when she said 'you know, me and animals' earlier. Miki has never been an 'animals person'. Dogs scare her. I think even hamsters scare her. I remember when we had Ro(ku)-chan, she wouldn't go near my house. Between her and Aoi, they will never catch that rabbit. Mr. Hoppy will go missing forever, and Aoi will be crying for weeks. Ha!

Actually, if that happens, Miki will be on my case for at least a month. It'll be all my fault, no matter what I say. I will never hear the end of it.

I see Aoi's determined gaze again. An unshakable faith resides in her eyes. They refuse to leave my mind.

I stop walking, groan, and turn towards the road leading to the children's playground.


	13. Rabbit Salad

I find Aoi and Miki hiding in such a way as to be totally obvious to any passing rabbit. Beside them lie a big pile of carrots, arranged haphazardly and screaming 'trap'. Any rabbit will have to be really dumb to come out. I sigh and walk towards them. Aoi spots me and runs out of her hiding (well not really) place and jumps me, "I knew you would come!"

I struggle to disentangle her. "No. I'm just passing by, on my way to the library."

Miki gives me an amused look. I ignore her.

"Look!" I gesture at their sad rabbit lure. "You guys don't know what you're doing. The rabbit will never come out if you do it this way."

I head over to where Miki and Aoi had placed some carrots and start adding other vegetables to the pile.

"What are you doing?" asks Miki.

"Making rabbit salad," I say as I add more lettuce and greens from a bag of vegetables the two has with them.

"You just need to mix them up?" asks Miki. "Is this some trick?"

"No. Tricks are for kids," I say. "THIS is pro animal science. There is a specific ratio. Officially known as Hiroto's Golden Rabbit Ratio."

"What is it?"

"Sorry, trade secret."

"Cheapskate."

"You'll just have to wonder about it for the rest of your days." I finish up. "Ok, now let's hide!"

"Oni-chan," asks Aoi. "Are you sure this will work?"

"We'll find out."

15 minutes later, I hold plump Mr. Hoppy in my hands. I hand him to Aoi.

"It worked! How did you know to mix up the greens?" asks Aoi excitedly.

"I used to have a rabbit. Well, rabbits. Three to be exact."

"You've raised rabbits before?"

"His mom had an 'animals' phase," Miki says. "Dogs, cats, rabbits. They had everything at their house. Visiting his house then was like going to the zoo."

Aoi looks at me with open admiration. I start to get embarrassed.

I say, "Now that you've found Mr. Hoppy. I gotta go."

"Thank you for rescuing Mr. Hoppy, oni-chan!" she beams.

I will NOT admit to having just helped a Watanabe. So I'm petty. Big deal.

"I didn't do anything. You should thank Miki." I nod to Miki. "She's the one who helped you set up the lure and waited with you all this time. And she's scared of animals. It takes guts to do what she did."

Miki blushes and mumbles something.

"Oh, I thanked Miki-tama already," says Aoi. "But you helped us find Mr. Hoppy!"

"I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later. With or without my help. Whatever. Don't lose him again!" I say.

"You bet!" says Aoi.

And so Mr. Hoppy returns safely and my afternoon ends. I miss my workout, again! Another wasted day! I promise myself to avoid the Watanabe sisters like the plague from now on.


	14. Looks

The next few days come and go. Besides the time I spend working on the apple farm, I make sure to spend the rest of my time after school meaningfully. I AM serious about 'boosting my stats' after all. Sometimes I head to the library. Sometimes I visit the Shinto shrine. Still, I feel like a fly without a head: buzzing nowhere. I need a more focused plan of action.

Like I thought about before, after Shihoko swoons over my awesome display of affection for her, she will need a man who matches her in muscles, brains, and looks. I already got the muscles, and I haven't thought of a better way to boost my grades besides visiting the library. That leaves looks.

Now that I think about it, looks are easy.

I've never cared much about fashion, but it can't be that hard. I just need to figure out the latest styles and emulate that. On my way home from school I stop by the news stand to buy a stack of the most recent fashion magazines: PopEye, Fineboys, Sense, and a few others. I flop down on my bed and flip through them to learn about the latest in babe-attracting gear.

Hey, this guy looks really hip wearing this black hat. I don't have a black hat, but I have a blue beanie that's similar. Here's another guy with a really stylish shirt. I got a polka dot shirt that's just like this! Oh, sweaters are all the rage again? I should be able to dig up something Grandma sent me years ago. Let's see…

After an hour of mixing and improvising from my wardrobe, I create an incredible, original new outfit.

I look at myself in the mirror. Yeah. I look like hot stuff.

Miki invited me to hang out with her and Keika tomorrow, which gives me the perfect opportunity to test out my new look. Even though I'm satisfied with my outfit, it's still better to get opinions from girls first. Maybe some of their comments will help me improve my outfit even more. I can't wait for them to see me!


	15. Market Street

"Did you get hit by a train?" says Miki.

"You're just envious 'cause I look so good."

"No, Hiroto, seriously. I mean, as a friend? You may be good at judo, but dressing up is definitely not part of your killer moves repertoire, if you catch my meaning."

"Oh, come on! You know you like it."

Since Miki is always trying to best me, I take everything she says with a grain of salt. Okay, so maybe there's some room for improvement, but I can't look that bad, right? My confidence ebbs a little but stays afloat.

Keika joins us. "Hey, guys, sorry I'm late!"

She turns to look at me, and the look on her face sends my confidence plummeting into the abyssal depths. I mean her expression was something to behold, even though it couldn't have lasted more than a millisecond or two. Her face has now returned to all smiles as if she had seen nothing out of the ordinary. But at that moment, that instant in time, she looked as if she'd just seen undead Sadako crawling out of her TV.

"That's a very...interesting combination, Machida-kun," says Keika.

"You don't have to spare him. I already told him straight up. I mean I've seen bad dressers, but he takes the meaning to a whole new level," says Miki. "I mean I want to win, but I don't want the competition THAT lopsided. It would make me seem a bully."

"You were always a fair player, Miki." Keika nods in agreement.

"OK! OK! I get it!" I throw up my hands. "So I don't know how to dress!"

Keika puts her hands on her hips. Then she walks around me, looking me up and down, as if inspecting some strange new specimen. Then she whispers something in Miki's ear and both girls giggle. They look my way, their eyes gleaming like predators.

"What now?" I say wearily.

Miki declares, "It's your lucky day, Hiroto. Dun dun dun! In the interest of fair play, we're gonna help you dress!"

"You, Sir, need a makeover," Keika agrees.

I have a bad feeling about this.

"You can't say no," says Miki. "Otherwise it will make me look bad. Fair is fair." Oh yeah? In whose rulebook?

"So we're going to the shopping mall?" I ask.

"No!" Keika covers her mouth in horror. "Most of the stuff there is so...mundane. And we all know you're dirt poor and can't afford the designer stuff."

"Hey! I resent that!"

She goes on as if I never spoke. "We're taking you to Market Street in the next town. There's cheap but classy stuff hidden away there like treasures if you know where to look. And I do."

Keika positively glows with anticipation. "Oh, we'll make you classy on a shoestring budget! Be glad I'm not charging you a designer's fee."

"I'm ecstatic."

"This will be so much fun!" adds Miki.

"I'll bet."

Any passerby would probably be jealous of me. I with a girl on each arm, looking like some mega playboy. They couldn't be more wrong. In truth, I'm being gang pressed to my doom by two gorilla wardens dead serious on giving me a makeover or else. They clamp my arms like vice grips, as if I'm gonna bolt at any time, which is not far from the truth.

We arrive at Market Street via JR train and spend the afternoon dodging in and out of boutique shops. The girls, Keika especially, would reach into chaotic piles of clothing to pull out something that I swear wasn't there a minute ago, as if she knows every secret stash of top clothes the owners hid from mere mortals. Then there would be some mixing, matching, and debating, at the end of which they would stuff me into a new outfit, shake or nod their heads like runway judges, giggle madly, and repeat the process all over again. I feel like a life-sized version of that American doll…whatsitsname? Oh right, Ken.

Despite all my complaining, I admit it: the girls know what they're doing. Keika's like the lead designer with Miki as her capable assistant, producing for me at the end of the day three amazing outfits. Even I can tell these blow my own creations out of the water. I do appreciate it. I stay dressed up in one of them and put the other two into shopping bags with my old clothes.

Feeling gentlemanly, I offer to treat them both to dinner, but both of them has some prior engagement that night so we part for the day. But they do take a rain check and promise to find the most expensive restaurant in town next time. Bloodsuckers.


	16. Yakiniku

The girls leave on the train, but I don't feel like going home yet so I stay in town. I feel good. And who wouldn't want to show off a bit after a good makeover? I pick a random direction and begin walking, enjoying the warm evening. My exploration eventually takes me to a moderately busy square.

Well here I am, all dressed up and nowhere to go.

Couples. Salary-men. Families. I see people of all sorts heading to dinner in one of the many restaurants around. I feel a little hungry myself. Hey! Maybe I should ask a girl to dinner now? I mean Miki's rules never specified I had to find a girl from our school. It could be anyone off the streets. I spot a cute girl in a little black dress standing at the street corner. She looks alone. Feeling confident, I stride over to ask her out. The girl looks up as I approach.

The gods must have a weird sense of humor. I'm sure everyone's had THAT fantasy before. The one of bumping into a secret crush in the streets? And there just happens to be some convenient excuse for the two of you to hang out for a while? Yeah well, that never happens. But people I hate. People I can't stand. People I don't want to see in a million years. Oh, they turn up everywhere.

It's Watanabe Junko.

She seems a little glum, but when she spots me her eyes light up. Immediately, she marches toward me like a soldier on a mission and stops in my face before I can start a wave.

"Machida."

"Yo. Fancy meeti-"

"You are my boyfriend."

"Whoa. That was sudden. I mean I know how good I look but-"

"Shut up. I'll explain later."

"That's no way to speak to your boyfri- Ow! Ow! Ow! Leggo my ear!"

Before I know it, she's dragged me all the way to this yakiniku restaurant. So here we are, sitting side by side, waiting for who knows what.

I look around. It's a traditional and rather expensive yakiniku restaurant. A middle-aged couple sits in a neighboring table. A slightly balding husband eating happily with his slightly portly wife. Their table contains a menagerie of side dishes: pickled cucumbers, red peppered bean sprouts, chilled tofu, among others. Plates with neat rows of raw meat await beside their tabletop grill. The husband puts some more meat and vegetables onto their grill with his chopsticks while being fed greasy, succulent meat by his wife. They look so happy chatting away and radiating joy and warmth, almost melting the frost on our side.

"I take it you like yakiniku?" I say, trying to be civil.

"I hate yakiniku." She's viewing the other people as well.

"Why? It tastes really good."

"There's no why. I just do, okay?"

"You drag a guy you don't like to a restaurant you hate. Going to tell me what this is about now?"

She finally looks at me. "I'm meeting my grandmother tonight. I told her I got a boyfriend, and she insisted that I bring him."

"Uh huh. I'm guessing this hypothetical boyfriend does not exist?"

"I was going to make up some excuse about how my boyfriend got sick, and then you showed up."

"I see where this is going," I say. "I get to be your boyfriend-in-a-can."

"Exactly."

"What if I don't want to be your boyfriend tonight?"

"Then I'll tell the whole school how much you liked the girls' locker room." She smiles sweetly.

I have some choice words for her right then, but seeing as how we're in an expensive restaurant among well-mannered people, I swallow them.

Did I promise myself never to mix with the Watanabe sisters ever again? Yes, I did. I definitely remember I swore that. I guess I forgot one of them can hold a knife to my throat.

So I flash her a smile. A BIG smile. "So. HON-EY. What are our plans tonight?"

She returns an equally BIG smile, showing all her even white teeth. "Well, DAR-LING. First, we meet my grandmother. Then, we have a nice dinner with nice conversation. You follow my lead and everything will be fine."

"I think that would be nice, HON-EY. Anything else I should know?"

"You touch me anywhere funny, and you lose your hand. Got me?"

"I'll be so chaste you'll think I'm gay, happy?"

"Good. Then I'm sure we'll have an enchanting evening."

Suddenly Junko's expression brightens.

"Grandma!" Junko calls out to someone by the door, in a tone that contains genuine warmth. Huh, that's a first.

A spry old woman in gypsy-like clothes hobbles over and envelopes Junko in a big bear hug, cackling all the while. Not at all what I expected. Since we're meeting in a traditional restaurant, I guess I imagined her grandmother to be some sort of cold, well-mannered headmistress in a kimono. Not this.

The old woman glances at me with a grin. "Who might this be?"

Junko grabs my arm in a fierce hug. "This is my boyfriend Hiroto! Isn't he adorable?"

OK! Who's crossing lines here! I distinctly remember somebody saying no touching funny places just a minute ago. This is kinda hard to do in this position!

Meanwhile, I smile a hopefully convincing smile at Grandma. "Nice to meet you, Grandmother."

"Hmmm…" She squints at us. I think she bought it. "Come, come. Let's sit and eat. You must be famished."

We sit down, and Junko orders some things from the menu. As we wait, the waiter brings us cups of hot green tea.

"Where did you two lovebirds meet?" asks Grandma as we settle down.

"You can say we kinda ran into each other," I say.

"At school," adds Junko. "We met at school."

"That's nice. Junko was telling me about your lovely trip," says Grandma.

"Yeah." I look at Junko out of the corner of my eye. "That trip to the, uh, mount-"

Junko stamps my foot. I freeze mid sentence because of, well, the pain.

"Beach," Junko says. "Our trip to the beach, darling! Wasn't that something?"

"Uh yeah," I say. "I mean we saw some pretty mountains by the beach. Yeah."

After the initial exchange, conversation goes more smoothly. I make up stuff following Junko's lead and improvise when she doesn't. We jell surprisingly well, considering we don't really know each other. Like longtime football partners, we pass the ball smoothly back and forth, dodging thorny questions and clearing conversation hurdles, weaving a very convincing story of two high school kids in love. If we didn't want to strangle each other we could probably form a pretty good improv team.

Grandma's more familiar with today's pop culture than I expected and easily joins in conversations of music, anime, and other subjects that I thought would befuddle old people. She says learning about 'young people things' helps keep her young, but she does remind us not to abandon traditional culture either. For there's power in old things, she tells us mysteriously.

Even though I've been pressed into working as boyfriend stunt double, I find myself enjoying the dinner immensely. Grandma's good company. The food's great. And I have a good looking (and only half murderous) girl as my date. Good times.

Speaking of good looking. Now that I've had the chance to look at Junko without my ear clamped in her hand, I must say she looks…nice. No, that's not quite it. I think what I'm looking for is…stunningly beautiful. I realize why. Maybe it's because the ridiculous contrast tonight threw my girl-o-meter completely out of whack. I've never seen her before except in school or track uniform. Plus she's usually sweaty, dusty, and scowling at me. Her finest moments I'm sure.

Now her hair's up in some kind of fancy do that only girls know how to do. Her eyes accented by sparkly eye shadow, her smooth skin made more fair by a faint rouge. Sitting so close to her I notice her scent. It's not perfume I don't think. Rather a fresh, clean scent like summer rain. Most important, she's laughing. Genuinely laughing. I don't think she's pretending that part. And the transformation is spectacular.

OK. I've had too much tea. I'm drunk on tea. That must be it. It's clouding my mind, giving me weird thoughts. That and maybe the lighting in this restaurant is playing tricks on my eyes. I can't believe I'm actually thinking about Junko like this. What am I doing? I'm supposed to be mad at her. I need to be thinking about Shihoko instead. I must be going crazy. Must be my hormones acting up. Arggh!

My logic shoots my wild emotions, gets everything under control, and I'm sensible again.

While the waiter serves dessert, Junko goes to the ladies room to freshen up. It's just me and Grandma as the server brings the matcha ice cream on classy looking ceramic plates. I am glad Junko's gone for a little bit. I need some air. I take a sip of green tea.

Grandma leans in and whispers, "You're not really her boyfriend are you?"

I almost spew my tea all over the old lady. Good thing I turn my head at the last second and get it all over the passing waiter instead (who insists it's quite alright and that I continue to enjoy my meal. I must remember to 5 star this place for excellent service later.)

Grandma cackles with mirth.

"How did you know, Grandma?" I choke out.

"Simple. You two were trying too hard." She looks at me, not unkindly. "Junko's a sweet child. She's trying to show me how she's fine and happy after her parents' divorce so I wouldn't worry about her. Thinking to pull one over her granny. But I play along anyway to make her feel better."

"Still," she continues. "Junko IS much more genki with you around. She was a mess the last time I saw her. For that I must thank you, Machida-kun."

"Uh, I'm not sure I did anything."

"If you will, be there for her," says Grandma warmly. "She's a foolish, proud child. She wouldn't admit it easily, but these few months have been a tough time for her."

"Uh. Yeah. I'll do my best," I stutter. Then in a fit of emotion I say, "I think you are a fantastic Grandma. Junko's lucky to have you."

She laughs at that. "You are a nice boy. You sure you don't want Junko as your real girlfriend? I think you two make a good match. Besides, she makes amazing bentos. I taught her that myself."

I flush beet red at that. Curses! I'm furious at my rebellious face.

"We're just...friends," I mutter.

Junko comes back then, and both of us fall silent.

"What?" Junko looks at us puzzled. "What were you two talking about?"

Grandma and I crack up.


	17. Crossroad

Grandma gets on a cab. I had hoped to bum a ride, but she says she doesn't want to 'ruin our walk back home'. Gee thanks, Grandma. I thought you knew we weren't for real. What you trying to do?

After we wave Grandma goodbye, we head toward the train station. The ride back proves uneventful, both of us too exhausted to talk, probably due to the exertion from acting all night. We get off at our stop and walk onto the streets. It seems, at least for a time, we travel in the same direction. I wonder how long we'll share this road. When will she veer off to a separate path? I'm not sure if I'm happy about that or not.

"Aoi told me about Mr. Hoppy," Junko says out of the blue.

"Oh." I guess we should still make some polite conversation. "I'm glad she found him."

"I mean," Junko says. "She told me how you helped her find the rabbit."

"It's all Miki," I insist. "I had nothing to do with it."

We come to an empty crossroads. She stops. Is this where she walks off? Has our evening come to an end at last? She takes a deep breath. I wonder what's coming.

"I apologize," she finally says. "About… well… I haven't been very nice to you."

I'm about to counter with some sarcastic 'about time' remark but think better of it. Maybe hanging out with Grandma mellows one's temperament. Or maybe I've just had too much tea.

I say instead, "It's okay."

She says, "I want to say I haven't been myself, but that doesn't give me an excuse. I've acted terribly."

"Well," I fumble for words. "I haven't been exactly nice either. Yeah. About that time in the closet, I probably shouldn't have done that to you. Sorry."

"I can't believe those two never thought to check the broom closet."

"Yeah, me too. I thought we made a pretty big racket."

"Imagine what would've happened if a teacher walked in right then."

"That's what I was thinking too."

We share a look. She giggles. Then we both laugh.

And in that laughter, all that dumb hate evaporates into the clear night air.

"Don't worry about it." I wipe away my tears. "Getting slammed, slapped, and dragged into boyfriend stunts. That happens to me all the time."

"I did let you be my boyfriend," she says. "For one dinner only, mind you."

"Oh, I am overcome with gratitude!" I gush.

She sticks her tongue out at me.

"Hey," I smile. "What I want to say is: we're cool. No bad feelings."

She appears to think about something. Then she takes out a piece of paper from her purse and scribbles something on it.

"Here." She hands it to me.

"What's this?"

"My number," she says. "I owe you one for today. If you ever need a favor, call me."

"Any favor?"

"Within reason."

"Alright." I put the note in my pocket. "I'll call you when my house is burning down or something. You know, nothing you can't handle."

She's standing really close to me. Instead of backing away, she gets up on tiptoes and looks intently at my face, as if trying to confirm something. What is she doing? What's going on here? Her face is only centimeters from mine. Her lips awfully close. I feel time stop.

"You just might be a wonderful person," she says quietly.

Then she smiles, twirls, and disappears into the night.


	18. Interlude

I wake up in my bed not sure what to think of last night. Was it all a dream? Because it sure felt like one. I can't shake the feeling that I may have missed something important. Watanabe Junko, hmm? Last night wasn't such a bad date was it? Wait. No. Ridiculous. That wasn't a real date! I'm imagining things. We simply ended our enmity. That's all. Besides, I have a clear target: Shihoko. I need to focus on Shihoko.

Thinking more only makes my head hurt. I go take a shower to clear my head. Then I remember today is Sunday, and I'm grateful. I leave to get some exercise with the Bakayaro Gang. It goes well.

The week goes by and nothing unexpected happens. I work at the apple farm for a few days and head to the library when I don't. I see Junko once and she waves, but we are both rushing to class at the time so nothing comes of it. After that I don't see her anymore. Probably busy with track this week. Miki comes to pester me as usual. Nothing new there.

Yet Keika's been conspicuously missing for the past two weeks, not counting last Saturday. Before, I usually see her in the hallways, and we would chat about school or she would go on about her boyfriend Shoichi. If I didn't know any better, I would say she's been avoiding me.

Maybe I'm just imagining it, but I think that things are a little…different…between Keika and I after that day at the pool. I must be overthinking this. The perfect proof: that makeover day with Miki and Keika. Keika had seemed pretty normal then. We're just pals. It's only my imagination running wild.

Keika pops up. "Miki has another date!"

Yup, it's definitely just my imagination. Keika's right here. Her old scatterbrained self. Like nothing ever happened. Because nothing did.

"Oh really?" I say. "With who?"

"I can't tell you," she says. "Because I don't know."

"You're not being very convincing, Keika. Somehow I think you're behind this. Again."

"Who me?" says Keika with a surprised expression, fooling no one. "I'm a disinterested third party!"

"I wouldn't bet my life on that."

"What about you, Machida-kun?" says Keika. "Last time I checked you still don't have a girlfriend."

"I'm working on it."

"You need to step up your game, Machida-kun."

"I thought you're on Miki's side."

"I'm a disinterested third party," she repeats.

I roll my eyes as I wave goodbye. Yes, things are pretty normal this week.


	19. A Call at Night

Friday rolls around, and I finish all my school work that night so I can relax for the weekend. I remember walking past some old men fishing by the river near my house. Maybe I'll go fishing tomorrow then. It'll be a nice way to unwind, especially after the intensity of last Saturday.

The phone rings. Who's calling me at this hour? Could it be Shihoko? Yeah, right. She doesn't even have my number. I look at my phone and see Keika's name flashing. A call from Keika in the middle of the night? Is she going to rub it in about my lack of progress again? Rolling my eyes, I press connect.

"Hi, Keika. Is this an emergency? You can make fun of me in the mornings too, you know."

"Hiroto."

"Yeah?"

"Do you have time tomorrow? I am going shopping. Miki is busy, and I need someone to help me carry stuff. I'll pay for your meals, so it'll be worth your time." Keika's words are businesslike, like we're doing a deal or something. Since playing porter is not my idea of a good time, I'd better think of a good excuse. Let's see...

"Please," she says.

It's impossible to refuse when a girl says it that way.

"Okay. I'm free. Where? What time?"

"How about one o'clock by the fountain near the train station?"

"Sure."

"See you tomorrow." She hangs up.


	20. A Date at Day

I am at the fountain where we agreed to meet. If I know Keika, she won't show up for another hour or so. I don't even know why I bother to be on time. Must be all that childhood drilling by my parents. It's simply not possible for me to even contemplate lateness. Maybe I should check out that game store over there to kill some time. They have a sale on some game called RPG Tsukuru. I stand up, take a step, and see Keika. My jaw drops.

"You're...on time," I say.

"Isn't that what people do?"

"Yeah, but you know, with you..."

"Didn't you tell me it's unhealthy for me to make a habit of being late?"

"I guess I did."

"Besides, there's this really cute store I absolutely have to visit today." She grins.

Keika looks amazing, as usual. I don't know how clothing designers do what they do, I only know that they know what they're doing. She definitely looks more beautiful than she really is. Stop. That sounds awful. What does it matter?

Today, she looks beautiful. That's all that matters.

A variety of shops line the streets surrounding the train station. Trinkets. Souvenirs. Sweets. It's a good area to window shop for people who have nothing in particular they want to buy. We browse the shops, with Keika walking into random stores with high spirits, laughing while showing me this and that. I would like to think she's having a grand ol' time, that she's overjoyed to see me. But I can't help but notice that she's laughing a little too hard, like she's determined to have fun.

After an hour, we find a cafe and take a well-earned rest from our ordeal. Or my ordeal, anyway. She still looks quite energized. We sit by the window. There isn't anyone else here except a gruff old dude at the counter, who after bringing our drinks goes back to cleaning his coffee cups. I sip at my espresso. Keika stares at her tea.

Normally just chillin' with Keika is cool, but today's a little tense. The silence becomes uncomfortable.

"So...how's the tea?" I try to start a conversation.

"Sorry? Did you say something?" She looks up.

"Something on your mind?"

"Nothing."

"Maybe we should order something else from the menu? These macaroons look ni—"

Keika bites her lip.

"Keika?"

She bursts into tears.

"Whoa, I mean, if you don't like macaroons we can order something else." Was it something I said?

"This is all so wrong," she whispers.

"Huh? What is?"

"Last night, I asked Shoichi to go shopping with me," she sobs. "I don't think he heard me at all. It's like he was playing video games and only paying scant attention to our conversation. Like he didn't even care who he was talking to. Like I don't even exist. So I said fine, I'm gonna have a good time, with or without you, and hung up on him. I thought he was going to call back, but he never did. So I asked you out. I'm sorry, I guess I just didn't want to be alone today.

"But I still love him so much," she says fiercely, as if daring me to contradict her.

"I'm sure you do," I say. She buries her face in her hands.

While I am sweeping up the pieces of my manly ego, I begin to piece (har har) everything together. It's all clear to me now: I'm the doofus who's been reading too much into this. I am Keika's long-time friend. In other words, I am that 'safe' guy to go to in times of need. I guess it's too much to think she asked me out because of my mojo.

"Here," I say as I hand her a tissue.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what's with me these days." She wipes away her tears and blows her nose.

She cries a little more, with me sitting there stupidly, not knowing what to say, passing the occasional tissue. Eventually her tears turn to sniffles, and finally end with a sigh.

"Thanks. I needed to get that off my chest," she says as she wipes her last tear. "You're such a good friend, Hiroto."

"Uh. Glad I could help," I say.

She smiles. A cloud lifts and sunlight returns to her face.

My heart skips a beat.

As if suddenly realizing what she has done, she blushes with embarrassment. She takes out her pocket mirror and proceed to put herself back together.

"I've made such a fool of myself," she laughs as she dabs some make up.

"Don't worry," I say. "It's just me. And the cafe owner I guess."

"Oh, you mean the man behind the counter? That's only Hanzo-san. He's one of my body guards," she waves a 'carry on' to him. The old dude returns a barely noticeable nod without looking up from his cup cleaning. She whispers to me, "Don't worry. He's very good with privacy."

"Right." Sometimes I forget that I'm sitting across from one of the richest heiresses in Japan. Not anymore. I look at 'Hanzo-san' again. Now that I really look at him, it's obvious that underneath his too small uniform are bulging biceps and rippling muscles. A scar crosses his left eye, and he washes the cups with a deadly grace. He stands there completely balanced, not a weak point anywhere. Yeah. He can so kick my ass. I wonder how many 'Hanzo-san's' have been around all this time.

After that we go through the shops again, this time truly relaxed, with all of that weird tension gone. We joke, laugh, and window shop. It's just like the good old days (And I try to ignore the whole Hanzo-san thing). Admittedly, it isn't a bad afternoon.

I'm so glad we got all of that weirdness out of the way. We're back to being just friends. Plain and simple.

Funny. It seems she now calls me Hiroto.


	21. One vs World

I run into the classroom and spot Takuya by the corner.

"It's ready!" I say, hardly containing my excitement.

"You mean THAT?" says Takuya.

"Yes. Kentaro and his dad will deliver the apples to school this Friday morning."

"Good for you, bud!" He gives me a high five. "This is it! You nervous?"

"A little," I admit. "What if it fails, man?"

"It might."

"I thought you're supposed to be encouraging me!"

"Even if I said it will bomb, would you call off the whole thing?"

"No. I guess I wouldn't."

"Relax, bud!" He slaps me on the back. "Just think, you went through all that backbreaking farm work for her already. You only need to take this last step. I'll be right behind you."

"You're right," I say. "Let's do this!"

For the rest of the day, I jitter and daydream. Classes pass right over my head. I think Miki said something to me at some point but it was like hearing it underwater: totally unintellgible. Once I thought I saw Shihoko wearing a baseball cap in the hallways, but it turned out to be someone else who looked uncannily similar. Argh! I must be going nuts over Shihoko! Now I'm seeing illusions of her.

School ends for the day and I walk out the entrance, still thinking of what to say to Shihoko when the time comes. Look at all these apples! No, too off topic. I love you? Too short. Maybe I should ask her simply: Will you be my girlfriend? Yes, that'll do!

I seem to have wandered to the stretch of road by the river. Few visit this off road. The afternoon sun glitters in the water. Some ducks quack as they swim by. I take a deep breath and enjoy the serenity.

"Hey you!" someone shouts behind me. Who in the world?

I turn around to find five unfriendly high school dudes in basketball jerseys. The guy in the center scowls at me and I know right then who he can only be: Keika's boyfriend Shoichi.

He's got big eyes, a straight nose, an earring in his left ear, and a stylish hairdo. One of those pretty boys I think girls tend to swoon over. He could probably sing in a boy band. And if what Keika said is true, he's their school's basketball star. No wonder Keika is all over him, I guess.

He points a finger at me. "Do you know who I am?"

"No, but I have a good idea," I say nonchalantly. "You are Keika's boyfriend."

"Then you know exactly why we're here."

"Actually, no I don't."

"He's playing dumb, Shoichi!" says one of his buds.

"This is the punk who messed with your girlfriend?" adds another basketball/boy band member.

"We are going to teach him a lesson today," says Shoichi. "Aren't we boys?"

"Hey," I put up my hands and back off. "I think there's been some misunderstanding."

"There's no misunderstanding." Shoichi steps toward me. "I saw what you did at the pool."

"That wasn't what it looked like," I say. "Wait a min. You were there?"

"Why we talking to him?" says another one of them. Then he points a finger at me too, "We're done talking to you!"

With all their finger pointing, it doesn't look like they want to resolve this peacefully. Normally, there's nothing wrong with their tactic. Five against one is generally a sure win. Unfortunately for them, they made two critical mistakes.

One. I actually do know judo. Despite not making the Nationals, I am still superman to the average high schooler.

Two. I practice One vs World on a weekly basis thanks to the Bakayaro Gang. So a bunch of preppy basketball playboys who've probably never been in a real fight before wants to take me on?

It's no contest.

"Can we talk like civilized people now?" I say as I hold Shoichi in a headlock while the rest of his buddies moan on the floor near him. He grunts an assent. I stand up. He limps up. We glower at each other.

"You know what you did at the pool," he begins.

"Then why didn't you jump out and do something about it?" I match his glare. "What were you doing? Watching us like it's some peep show?"

"She's my girlfriend." His voice loses a little of the bravado.

I don't know why, but I begin to get pissed. First I get pissed at maybe having done something wrong. Then I get even more pissed that I'm pissed at all as I've done nothing wrong.

"She was waiting for you." I shove him. "She's always, ALWAYS waiting for you. And what do you do? You treat her like dirt."

"I…" he stammers.

"All she ever talks about is you!" I shove him harder. "When you saw another guy making moves on your girl, why didn't you jump out then instead of hiding like a pansy? Huh? If it were my girl I would've shook the other guy up real good right then."

I slam him against the wall. "What do you do instead? You bring your cronies to help you wipe your butt. You too chicken to deal with this yourself? I bet you didn't even ask Keika about us. About what she thought of all this. You didn't even talk to her did you?"

From his expression I know I guessed right.

"Keika's a good girl. She never did anything to betray you." I stare him down. He looks away.

I grab him by the collar and growl in his face. "I don't know what she sees in you. You want her? Then why don't you shape up and start acting like the man she deserves?'

He refuses to meet my eyes and looks down at the floor instead. I let him go. His cronies had heard everything we said, and now they're all real quiet. I turn my back on them and walk away without saying another word.


	22. Aftermath

Class has ended, and Keika chats with me by my desk.

"It was terrible!" says Keika. "He has bruises all over his face."

"Uh, did he tell you what happened?" I ask.

"He said some losers jumped him, but wouldn't say more," says Keika.

"Loser…s. Huh." I scratch my nose.

"You wouldn't happen to know what happened, would you?" Keika narrows her eyes at me.

Is there a nice way to say 'I kicked the crap out of your boyfriend and his goons?' No, I suppose not. So I just shrug innocently and give her my best 'Who, me?' look.

"Of course you wouldn't. You don't even know him. Silly me," she sighs.

She's right. I don't really know him. He's better buddies with my fists.

"My boyfriend is so nice to me now!" Keika gushes.

"Really?" I say. "I thought you said he's always nice to you."

"I mean," says Keika. "He's even nicer now. Yesterday he bought me flowers! He's never bought me flowers before."

Somehow that stings. A little. What am I thinking? This is for the best. That dude's treating Keika better now. I've done my part as a good friend. Hurrah.

"I'm happy that it all worked out, Keika," I say.

"Yes," says Keika. "Me too. For a while I was confused."

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

She looks at me. I look at her. We seem to have run out of words to say.

"Keika!" Miki pops in the door. "Come help me with this!"

"Coming." Keika's eyes avoid mine. "I better go check to see how Miki's doing."

"Sure."

I watch her leave the classroom. I think I should be happy everything worked out.


	23. Countdown

Tomorrow is showtime and bad news strikes before bed. Kentaro calls and immediately says he's really sorry. It turns out his dad's truck broke down. They took it to the shop, but repairs take time, so they can't get to the school earlier than 5 in the morning, which is an hour later than the time we arranged previously. Plus, after he unloads the apples, Kentaro has to help his dad make the missed deliveries so he can't stay to help me and Takuya either. Kentaro apologizes profusely. I tell him not to worry about it and just leave the rest to me.

After I hang up, I go straight into panic mode. I wanted to have everything arranged before dawn, as after that students begin to trickle in and that would be very distracting. I was counting on having at least two hours to arrange the apples! Now barely an hour remains, assuming Kentaro's delivery arrives on time. And Kentaro can't stay to help us so we're down a man. We might not make it! What shall I do?

I know! I'll call Junko. She did say she owes me a favor. Now's the time to call in that favor. Usually I would call Miki, but since we're in competition and all, I suppose it would be bad form to ask her to help me. Quickly, I dig out the piece of paper Junko gave me that night. I dial the number on it.

The phone rings for quite a while. I am about to hang up when the call connects.

"Uh, hi. It's me, Hiroto," I say.

"Oni-chan!" answers Aoi's voice happily.

"Oh hey, Aoi. Put your sister on the phone. I need to ask her something."

"Are you going to ask her out?"

"What? No!"

"Oh phooey. And I thought it would be something exciting." What's with elementary school kids these days?

"Just put your sister on the phone," I say irritably.

"Ok," says Aoi. Then I hear her yelling into the background. "ONE-CHAN! It's oni-chan! And he's not gonna ask you out! He says it's about something else!"

Thanks Aoi, for framing everything so clearly. A few seconds go by. I hear a rustle and the sound of the phone being passed.

"Hi." says Junko's voice over the phone.

"Hi." I reply.

Suddenly, I don't know what to say. I called Junko in the heat of the moment, and admittedly, without giving it much thought. Now that I've calmed down, I realize this is the first time I've called a girl on the phone. (Not counting Miki of course - she doesn't count.) Oddly, my chest tenses. My mouth feels a little dry.

"Yes? Machida-kun? You still there?" asks Junko.

"Um. Yeah. There's something I need you to help me with," I say.

I quickly go over the whole apple plan. How I need her to help me and Takuya arrange the apples before dawn breaks.

The phone goes silent for a moment, and then Junko says, "Let me get this. You are calling a girl in the middle of the night so she can help you chase another girl in the morning?"

"Um, yeah. That's the gist of it, I guess," I reply. Wait. Maybe this isn't such a good idea.

Another bout of silence ensues.

"Look," I begin. "If you don't want to do this, it's fi-"

"No, I'll do it," Junko says. "It sounds like fun. Besides, I do owe you a favor. Tell me the time and place."

I give her the time and place. She says goodbye and hangs up.


	24. The Making

Junko shows up in a hoodie and jeans around quarter to five. Takuya arrives yawning a few minutes later. At five o' clock sharp Kentaro's apple truck rolls around to the front of the school. Kentaro and his dad help us unload the crates of apples onto the street. All the while Kentaro apologizes profusely. I point to Takuya and Junko and assure him we've got it covered. I thank him and his dad again as Kentaro climbs back onto the truck and they drive off.

"Okay." I turn to Junko and Takuya. "Let's get to work."

I begin to order the two of them around, but before I know it, Junko takes over and begins snapping orders.

"No! Not there! That'll ruin the whole image! Over there. There. Good."

"Put it over there, Takuya. Not there! More to the left, perfect."

"Hiroto! What were you thinking! Ahh! That's not how you do it! This way! See? This way!"

To a passerby it would seem Junko's directing the whole operation, which I guess she is. At first I feel angry. This is my project! But as the arrangement takes shape, I grudgingly admit Junko's much better than me at this. If we had gone according to my directions, the heart would look clunky and chunky. Junko arranges it so the whole heart and the 'I love Shihoko' message in the center look more tender, and ultimately a lot more lovely. She would make a great drill sergeant, I think.

Before dawn breaks we finish. A big, colorful arrangement of apples in a heart shape framing a flowing 'I love Shihoko'. We three stand there huffing and admiring our handiwork.

I high five Takuya and slap Junko on the back. "Thanks so much guys! Couldn't have done it without ya!"

Tatsuya says, "Anytime, bud."

"Yeah, sure," says Junko.

Takuya cocks his head toward the apple crates. "We should take the crates to the trash area or the teachers will have a fit. Come on, let's clean up."

Junko nods and Takuya jogs over to the crates.

I stand there a little longer, proudly looking at our masterpiece. Junko stands beside me silently, seemingly deep in thought.

I say to Junko, "What do you think?"

"It's stupid," she replies.

I open my mouth to say something stupid.

"But if I were her," she continues. "And some stupid, stupid guy goes through all this trouble for me, I would be touched."

She looks at me. "But then again, I'm not her."

"Oh," I say stupidly.

Did she just say what I think-

She giggles. "Don't worry. I'm kidding! She'll love it!"

"And," she wags a finger. "You're not as dumb as you look."

"What? Hey!" I protest.

She laughs. "Come on! Let's go help Takuya."

She runs toward Takuya and waves me over.

"Oh, alright." I grin and join my friends for clean up.


	25. Showtime

As the first students arrive at school bleary eyed, they notice Shihoko's Heart. Some chuckle and others point and gasp. A surprisingly many stay to gawk at some expected spectacle that's bound to happen. Inevitably, phones start popping out and pictures get snapped and posted. However it turns out, this will be the talk of the school for quite some time.

I swell with pride. I start to imagine the look of joy and surprise on Shihoko's face when she sees this. I will sweep in at the right moment and make my big declaration of love. The crowd will applaud, and I will get to date the prettiest girl in our school. I smile in spite of myself.

Strange. I haven't seen Shihoko yet. Maybe she's a little late this morning? I DO see Masashi instead. He's staring at the arrangement shaking his head. I can't help but feel the urge to gloat a little. I walk up to him.

"Yo Masashi," I call to him.

"Machida." He looks up. "Don't tell me you did this?"

"In fact, I did," I reply smugly. Masashi looks at me with disbelief. Then he starts to chuckle, which soon turns into a full out guffaw.

"What?" I say, a bit angry.

"Machida. Machida. Machida. This is golden," says Masashi as gestures at the apples. "You never fail to bring in the laughs. You should go into comedy."

"What's so funny?"

"Everyone!" Masashi announces to the people around. "Behold! The author of this masterpiece! Mister Machida Hiroto! Right here, folks. Isn't this tribute to our lovely Shihoko awesome? Isn't it fantastic?"

A few people clap hesitantly, unsure where Masashi's going with this.

"But oh," he continues. "This incredible display has one minor flaw."

He grins like a wolf, "As a good friend, I feel compelled to inform you of one trifling detail."

"What is it, Masashi?" I have a bad feeling about this.

"I just thought you'd like to know: Shihoko is not coming to school today."

"What!"

"Oh? You didn't know she has an away tennis match today?" Masashi says to me and to the crowd.

This can't be happening.

"You are not a details man are you, Machida? You do all this just to have it all fall apart because you missed one crucial detail," says Masashi.

No, this must be a bad joke. Masashi lies.

Masashi lays his palm on his chest, "Yet I knew. I have ways of finding out Shihoko's schedule. So you know what I did? Because I knew Shihoko had an important away match today. I sent her a love letter of encouragement with a single rose."

It dawns on me that he's actually telling the truth. Because this time, the truth hurts far more than any lie.

"You know what's the difference between you and me?" Masashi taps his head. "It's up here. It's called smarts. I accomplish more with a single rose than you with bucketfuls of apples. Think about that, dumbass."

"Hey!" Takuya runs over and shouts at Masashi. "What's your problem?"

Masashi just laughs and waves a mocking goodbye as he saunters off with his chums. I'm so depressed I don't even have the energy to punch him in the face.

Takuya pats me on the back. "Hey, don't mind that asshole. You did good, ok? At least the whole school knows you declared love for Shihoko, right? It doesn't matter if she doesn't see it. It'll be all over the school. See! Someone's taking a photo of it right now!"

Junko joins us. "Yeah, Hiroto. I took pictures of the arrangement with my phone too. You can still send the photos to Shihoko later. She'll love it!"

They are trying to cheer me up. I know they mean well, but it doesn't work. I know perfectly well that photos don't have the same impact as the real thing. Plus, I'll now be known as the guy who botched up a major declaration of love to Shihoko. Like Takuya warned me before, this could make me the laughingstock of the entire school. Do or die I told him. Well, died I did.

Takuya nods his head at the apples, "What do you want to do with the apples? The teachers are going to show up any minute."

"Eat them. Pass them out. I don't really care." I gesture to nowhere in particular, "I planned to give them out for everyone to eat anyway."

"Okay buddy." He shouts to the crowd, "Free apples for everyone! Courtesy of Machida Hiroto! Everyone is free to take a few!"

I think there was a faint cheer. Then I hear a gasp. Oh, Keika and Miki have arrived too. I don't really want to talk to them right now.

"Thanks guys. You guys are great," I say to Takuya and Junko. "I'll thank you both later. Just…I need sometime alone, okay?"

"Hiroto…" says Junko.

Before she finishes, I run and disappear into the crowd.


	26. Goddess

The rest of the school day passes like a daze. I think I hear snickers and whispers of "It's the apple boy." here and there, but I don't really care. I can't wake from the nightmare of how I botched up the whole thing. How could I have been so stupid? Why didn't I check Shihoko's schedule? Maybe Masashi's right: I'm just a dumbass.

I end up in the nurse's office, of all places. The nurse had left for the day, but I told a teacher that I felt sick so he let me in here. I didn't go to the gym cause I know Takuya, Miki and them would look for me there, and I don't know how to face them now.

I sit in a stupor for some time, till finally the sky begins its fade from orange to purple. I sigh and get ready to head home when a girl appears at the doorway.

Her eyes catch me first. Divine eyes dark as the night set in an oval face with perfect alabaster skin. Long flowing hair tied in a simple pony tail. It can't be. I look again. A flush comes unbidden. My heart races. My body burns.

It is she. Kaneshiro Shihoko.

"Shihoko," I stutter. "You…you…are here."

"I was looking for you," Shihoko says calmly. "A teacher told me that he saw you here."

"I thought you had an away tennis match." I regain a little of my composure.

"We did. But our tennis meet got canceled this morning, so we came back early." She looks at the sunset. "I saw your message."

"You did?" I stand up in surprise.

"Yes," she says. "Our dear principal thought it was cute. That more people should see it. They didn't clear it till noon. You didn't know?"

"I was kinda out of it for awhile," I admit sheepishly. That matters little now, my heart bursts with happiness. She saw it. She actually saw it!

I hold out my hand to Shihoko with all the drama I can muster, "Then…then…would you be my gir…girlfriend?"

She returns her gaze at me, and then politely shakes her head. "I'm sorry. The answer is no."

"But you are who I love!"

"You don't even know me. How can you say you love me?"

Oh, I would give her an outpouring of love: a declaration that we are destined by fate, our paths guided by the stars. That I knew we were meant to be together the first moment I laid eyes on her! Like a hero in some TV drama, I begin my impassioned speech, but the words fall apart before I can form them.

What the? Yes, I am burning like a torch. Yes, my heart beats rapidly. Yet here I am, standing before the supposed object of my desire, and I cannot say the words 'I love you'. I cannot say them genuinely with all my heart. I cannot say these words true.

Because they're not true.

I stand there dumbfounded, not quite comprehending what just happened. Yet slowly and with certainty, cold realization sinks in.

This was just a stunt, wasn't it?

All of this was a game. I didn't do this for love. I did it to prove I could catch the biggest prize in the school, and Miki's silly bet simply sparked the fire. This whole thing was never about Shihoko at all. It was about me.

Shame floods me. I no longer know what to say.

"Pardon," says Shihoko. "The teacher said your name is Machida?"

"Hiroto. Machida Hiroto."

"Machida-kun," she says. "What you did was sweet. I feel I owe you an explanation because you went through all that work to do this. I thank you for your effort, but I can't accept it. I'm sorry."

"No, I understand. You're right."

"You're simply confused," she says. "Don't be sad. Eventually you'll understand that I'm not who you're looking for. Life will go on. I wish you the best."

A silence falls between us then. She turns to go.

"Hey," I say.

"Yes?" she halts.

"You're right. I don't know if I love you," I say. "But I'm here. And you're here."

She arcs her eyebrow.

"I mean." I press on not really knowing what I'm trying to say myself. "You shouldn't be here, but you are. You should be at the tennis meet. And you shouldn't have seen the apples but you did. What I mean to say is…I don't think we're meant to be strangers."

"So uh, how about we start over?" I finish.

"Start over? What do you mean?" she blinks.

I stand up straight, like a first grade elementary school student miming a proper introduction. "My name is Machida Hiroto, 2nd year class C-3. Nice to meet you." I bow stiffly.

She laughs at that. "If you insist."

She gracefully and somehow playfully, bows back. "My name is Kaneshiro Shihoko, 3rd year class A-1. Nice to meet you too."

"Kaneshiro-san. I am not sure if I love you yet, but would you give me the honor of getting to know you, as a friend?"

"You don't give up easy, do you, Machida-san?"

"Not if I believe what I am doing is right." I grin. "Would you be my friend, Kaneshiro-san?"

"I think that would be acceptable, Machida-san."

"Then may I have your number, so that it would be easier for us to communicate?"

"Let's not go that far, Machida-san." My face falls.

"However," she looks amused. "I'll see you around at school. Who knows? Perhaps one day I may say yes."

"I will look forward to that day, Kaneshiro-san." I smile.

"See you around, Machida-san." She waves goodbye and gives me a mischievous smile.

My breath catches in my throat.

Ah. Yes. Now THAT's true.


	27. Heartache

After Shihoko left I sit for a bit. Then I get up and climb onto the roof of the school. Normally the entrance to the roof would be locked at this hour, but I know a secret way in. Who knew janitorial training can be so useful?

The night has only just begun. The sky is clear. I walk to the railing and look out to the city enveloping this little rooftop. The city lights twinkle like a field of fireflies, mirroring the sea of stars above. They shine endlessly, as if the night shall never end. I can hear the JR train, an occasional advertisement jingle, and some drunken salary-man singing off key somewhere. And beneath it all that ever present silent roar of any city that never sleeps.

The night air is sweet. I take a deep breath of it. And recollect everything that happened this month.

The saying goes that if you've never owned a car before, and one day you buy one, then you will see them everywhere. Of course, they've always been there. It's just the mind ignores them because they aren't important.

Have I been so caught up in chasing Shihoko that I missed things that may be important? Was I so focused on my destination that I missed the scenery along the way? Do I know what I really want?

Is it Shihoko? Her perfect beauty still stops my heart. Makes my face flush red. Makes me short of breath. The definite proof of flawless beauty. That is still a law of the universe. Do I love her? It confuses me, this adrenaline that accompanies viewing of divinity. A breathtaking moment of fight or flight. Is this love?

Or is love like that between Keika and her boyfriend? Keika: princess, friend, and scatterbrained idiot. Well, not a total idiot. I smile thinking about the outfits she picked out for me. Like royalty, they outrank anything else in my wardrobe. What if she picked clothes for me all the time? But no. That is something she should do for someone else. Somehow I don't want to think about this anymore. These silly thoughts of her. I need to shut the door on them and throw away the key. And think of happier things.

Love should be true. Of course not like the acted love that night with Junko. Wonder if Junko ever figured out that her Grandma out-acted both of us. I chuckle out loud. I see Junko's face again, her eyes reflecting the moonlight. Her silvery laugh. Her fire. Yes, that girl's got fire. A vivacity and independence that promises no boring moments. The thought of her refuses to leave my mind. Funny. When did she become so important? But this can't be love. It can't be this simple.

Then what is love? Do I even know? Can I really say with all my heart the words 'I love you.' to any girl?

No, I don't think I can. Not now. Not yet.

Yet I feel if I forge ahead I will find an answer. 31 days gone and still no inkling of a girlfriend, but who cares? This month felt like it lasted a long, long time. I don't think Miki knew what she had started. I should thank her later.

I look up at the night sky, a stretch of endless black and blue, a portrait of endless possibilities. A long car horn blares in the distance, as if signaling a start.

A start? I suppose it is. Hey, I've still got 70 more days. Who knows what will happen?


End file.
